


Jailhouse Talk

by Diary



Category: Glee
Genre: Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Character of Color, Conversations, Established Relationship, Established Sam Evans/Mercedes Jones, F/M, Interracial Relationship, Love, Male-Female Friendship, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, POV Mercedes Jones, Racism, Romance, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6351184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repost. “Tell me, what exactly made you think punching someone, in the middle of a restaurant, was something that wouldn’t get you thrown in jail?” Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jailhouse Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Glee.

Someday, Mercedes is going to have children, and if anyone ever tells them about this, she will murder the person in cold blood.

If she doesn’t murder her boyfriend, first.

Breaking the silence, she says, “Tell me, what exactly made you think punching someone, in the middle of a restaurant, was something that wouldn’t get you thrown in jail?”

“That wasn’t exactly my first concern,” is Sam’s sarcastic answer.

Glaring at him, Mercedes sighs. “Really? Some nobody makes a smartass comment, and you think that punching him is the right way to handle things?”

If he brings up her response to the jackass punching him, she will kill him. No, kicking and yanking the man’s ear, admittedly, wasn’t the best response, but her only concern had been to get him away from Sam.

“A comment,” he repeats.

“Since when do you handle things with your fists,” she asks.

She’s not going to get into the right way to handle people who throw racial slurs right now. She hates being silent and letting it slide, but her parents taught her at an early age doing so could literally be the difference between living and dying. Her instinct to survive is strong; sometimes, it’s stronger than her instinct to go after injustice. She’s not proud of it, but on the whole, she’s proud of the person she is.

He doesn’t answer, and she pokes him with her foot. “Hey. This is serious.”

She’s seen Sam (rather pathetically, if she’s honest) shove Finn, and she heard he and Blaine almost came to blows once. He got in a few good blows where Karofsky was concerned. 

Still, Sam doesn’t have a habit of attacking people, and seeing how coldly and calmly he swung at the guy did scare her a little. The pathetic shove was about Quinn being yelled at, and she doesn’t know what the Blaine thing was about, but seeing as how they’re friends, she doesn’t think it was too serious. Karofsky had shoved Mike, first.

“He deserved it.”

She pokes him a little harder. “The police don’t seem to think so. _I_ don’t think so. We’re in jail, Sam. My parents are going to lock me in my room until I’m thirty, and yours might just hop in their van, drive here, and drag you back to Kentucky. Stevie and Stacie are going to hate both of us.”

He sighs and glances over at her. “At least, they put us together.”

“Praise,” she declares. “Can we get real, now?”

When he doesn’t answer, she reaches over to touch him, and without looking at her, he jerks away.

“Sam?”

Whenever he’s angry or sad because of her, he withdraws from her touch. She doesn’t know if he knows how much it hurts.

“Is this the part where you break up with me? ‘Cause if so, can we just get it over with before someone comes?”

Now isn’t the time to cry.

Too bad her eyes aren’t listening.

“Did I miss something? One minute, we’re having dinner, laughing, and now, you’re talking about breaking up. Seriously, is this another Kurt situation?” She pauses. “Or another- I don’t know- you suddenly deciding that Quinn is really the love of your life? Is it a reverse Kurt situation where you’re digging Santana? Brittany will kill you, y’know, and I will pop popcorn and borrow a cheerio uniform from Sylvester as I watch.”

Sam scoots his folded chair as far away from her as he possibly can. “For the record, I’ve never cheated on anybody,” he declares. “Even when I started dating Santana, I didn’t do more than hold her hand and let her sit in my lap before I broke up with Quinn.”

“I wasn’t accusing you of cheating,” she points out.

She doesn’t have the luxury of going on the record and saying she never has. The kiss wasn’t planned, and it only happened once. It didn’t go any further. Maybe she could forgive herself more fully if she hadn’t waited two weeks to tell Shane about it. “

“I’m just trying to figure out we got from happy to this. Somehow, I don’t think that jerk you stupidly punched had anything to do with it.”

If he did, she doesn’t know how she’s going to handle this.

“Of course, he did,” Sam scoffs. “This is what you do. I want to see you without your shirt on, and you decide I only really like girls who look like Quinn and Santana. The Shane thing- I know some of the blame is mine. We finally get together, hopefully for good, and I have to let our glee club do an intervention just so that I can take my girlfriend on proper dinner dates. And now, some jackass bastard mouths off, and-” He trails off and lets out a deep breath.

Sighing, Mercedes carefully sits down on his lap and plays with his hair. Kissing his forehead and looking him in the eyes, she says, “I realise I should be more sensitive, but we’re in jail. Get over it, Sam. You were my first relationship, and I did some stupid things. I’ve grown since then, and I’m not going to randomly decide we need to break up even though things are going great. That’s what I did, not what I do, got it?”

Nodding and looking at her with a hopeful look, he leans forward to kiss her.

Breaking the kiss, she squeezes his hand, goes to bring her chair over to his, and sits down. Retaking his hand, she continues, “I’m not breaking up with you, but I’m also not making out with you while we’re in jail. We need to talk about you punching that guy.”  

“I was angry,” he says. “I don’t regret it.”

“You have Stevie and Stacie to think about,” she points out.

“Exactly,” he says. “They could be gay, they could fall in love with a black person or someone not white, and okay, obviously, I don’t want either of them starting a fight in a restaurant, but I’m proud to be your boyfriend, Mercedes. I’m proud you’re my girlfriend. Our relationship is good. I want them to know that, and I want them to know that no one has the right to make us or them feel bad. We weren’t bothering anyone, and he just said _that_ so that everyone could hear, making everyone stare. Do you know hurt you looked? Do you know how hurt I felt?”

“I understand,” she says. “As wrong as it is, I’ve dealt with this my whole damn life. But this isn’t the answer. Providing our parents don’t kill us, we’re still going to go out on Saturday, it’ll probably have to be to a different restaurant, though, and if this happens again, you aren’t going to punch the guy. We’ll figure out what to do if we need to, alright?”  

“Okay,” he agrees in a tone making it clear he’s not happy.

She’s not, either, but she knows they have to find smarter ways to navigate the world.

Putting her head on his shoulder, she says, “I’m proud to be your girlfriend and to have you as my boyfriend.”

They sit quietly until the door opens.

Burt Hummel expressionlessly looks at them.

Sighing, Sam stands up and pulls her along. “Mr Hummel,” he says, and Mercedes is impressed by the way he keeps looking Kurt’s dad in the eye even as his shoe scuffs nervously across the floor.

“I refused to let any of the others come,” Mr Hummel informs them. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” they both say.

Knowing their friends, they’d all be snapping photos. Santana would probably try to post them on FaceBook.

“Come on, you two,” he orders. “I haven’t called your parents. I expect you to tell them what happened as soon as I drop you off, Mercedes, and you will be calling yours after church, Sam.”

“Yes, sir,” they both say.

He looks back at them and sighs. Once they’re all signed out, though, he puts a hand on each of their shoulders, and Mercedes thinks, maybe, he’s not completely angry.

She already knows she won’t get so lucky with her own.

Once they’re all buckled in the truck, Sam says, “Mercedes didn’t do anything wrong. She just tried to get the guy away from me, but they arrested her anyways.”

“We’re all going to figure this out, later,” Mr Hummel says. His hands tighten around the steering wheel. “You’re both alright?”

“Yes,” Mercedes answers. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem,” he says with a soft sound she can’t quite decipher.


End file.
